Barnacle And Beauty [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Let me describe the present moment. It is morning. A gentle rain is falling outside, tap-tapping a steady rhythm on the gutters and pools in the driveway. The window is open just enough so the smell of new rain is carried on a slight cool breeze. We sit, feet beneath the quilt, writing. Dogga was asleep in his favorite spot at the doorway but must have sensed I was about to write about him. He stretched, yawned, groaned, and jumped up on the bed. He nestled in and is once again asleep. Oh, yes, and there is coffee.

I was compelled to write about the present moment because I just read to Kerri an article in the New York Times about the social side of artificial intelligence. AI companions. At first it begged the question, “What is real?” but then I caught my prejudice. Are the conversations I have in my head real? Are my perceptions of the world real? Why should the conversations people are having with their AI companions be any less real than the nonsense that daily runs through my noggin? There is, according to the report, an epidemic of loneliness in these un-United States and true companionship is, apparently, hard to come by. It smacks to me of another layer on the bubble: people create their AI companions and AI companions learn how to respond to their creators from their creators…

There was no filter used to capture this pink-purple sky. It’s one of the things I appreciate about Kerri’s urge to aim her camera. She rarely attempts to alter the image. To make it something else. She is drawn to photograph the present moment with all of its flaws and barnacles. And beauty and grace.

Last night, during our 3am banana-and-trail-fest, we bumbled into a series of videos: people who have decided to live off the grid yet are documenting and sharing their homesteading process on YouTube. We’ve been following Martijn Doolaard for a few years and delight in the travels of Foresty Forest and his dog Rocko. Alternate lives. Old world craftsmen-and-women using-but-not-lost-in the wonders of new world technology. Sense-making.

My 3am revelation? I’m drawn to these people because of the balance they seek to establish: hands and feet firmly rooted in the traditions of dirt and toil and presence, while at the same time appreciating and using technology to capture their present moment. To share. To create. To suggest to us 3am sleep-deprived watchers that there is, indeed, a balance to be struck. No need to get lost. Barnacles and beauty available during this time of intense change.

meander/as it is © 2004 kerri sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora and iHeart Radio

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SKY

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Enter Happiness [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

The day brought to mind Avalon, the mythical island hidden from sight by the spells of the wise women who rule there or perhaps by charms cast by King Arthur’s sister, Morgaine. It is where Arthur was taken after he was gravely wounded in battle. To heal or to die. It depends on which version of the legend that you read. As I watched her take the picture I wondered if Avalon could pop-up off the coast of Lake Michigan. If it can be spelled and disappear from sight it certainly can be spelled to appear wherever Morgaine chooses. Magic is magic. Possibility is open-ended until doubt or belief renders it otherwise.

While I was studying the photo, pondering what I might write, Kerri played a song by John Denver. I didn’t recognize it and looked over her shoulder. It was the last song he wrote before he died. Yellowstone (Coming Home). He did not know it would be his last song. He had no expectation of dying on the day his plane dropped from the sky into the ocean. I have sometimes wondered what would be my last painting or the final piece I might write. In my imagining, I always know. “This is the last,” I think and set down my brush, one more step in preparing to enter the mist.

I read somewhere that the real key to happiness is to lose your self-importance. It’s counter-intuitive in a culture that identifies through individual achievement. Climbing the ladder. Top dog. Happiness as a by-product of achievement and possession. Yet, it seems simple if you think about it. Happiness, not as an acquisition but as as an aspect of presence. Happiness enters when we are present in our moment and, in order to actually be present in the moment, the eyes and heart and mind need to let go of the desire to be other places, future or past. Happiness finds us when enough is truly enough and everything else, all the imagined importance, the yearning and the lack, disappear into the fog of time’s illusion.

read Kerri’s blogpost about FOG

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Grasp The Enormity [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Benison was my word-of-the-day. It was a new word to me and it means a blessing or benediction (to bestow a blessing). I especially appreciated this word-of-the-day since I’ve lately been listening for the word “blessing”. It’s become something of a study or a game. I laughed when the word popped into my inbox. “Good timing!” I chirped.

I rarely go a day without hearing someone, somewhere, utter the word “blessing”. On the street, in the grocery store, neighbors chatting over the fence, in a bar, passing people on the trail…I’ve decided it’s a blanket word, generic, used to include many experiences. “What a blessing!”

I was considering adding it to my list of over-used and no longer meaningful words, like paradigm or story except that lately I’m of the opinion that this whole life, the entire ride with all of it’s ups and downs and confusions and clarities, is a blessing. A benison. A gift. Every single moment.

It flies in the face of common sense since I was given to understand that blessings are unique, something special. If every single moment is a blessing, then what’s the point of elevating this moment over that moment? Of course, I realized that I was (again) missing the point. The whole ride is a blessing. We mostly don’t realize it. We are mostly unconscious of it. Our awareness is some-other-place making lists or worrying worries so we mis-understand it. The word “blessing” is a descriptor of something unique and precious: those rare moments we actually grasp the enormity of being alive. Full stop and, as Lydia reminded me, breathe in the awe.

These days I think Kerri and I are practicing seeing our blessings. We are cultivating our capacity to notice. We note with delight the first buds of spring. We savor tastes. We love on the Dogga. So, when the Red Admiral butterfly landed on the Adirondack chair on a sunny early spring afternoon, “a symbol of spiritual awakening, transformation and renewal” we simultaneously said, “What a blessing!”

A benison. Yes, for us, a gift.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BLESSINGS

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It’s About Time [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

What more is there to say?

read Kerri’s blogpost about LOVE MORE NOW

smack-dab © 2024 kerrianddavid.com

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Why Bother? [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Here’s the hazard:

“I know what will happen.” “Same old same old.” “It’s always been this way.” “Why bother?” “Nothing ever changes.” “Who cares anyway.” “Tomorrow will be the same as today.” “It doesn’t matter.” “It’s just an idea.”

Pattern thought. Repetition’s repetition. Dulled life.

Looking up, the tree line cut a diagonal across the sky. The sun peeked from behind evergreen. I could have thought, “I’ve seen it a thousand times.” And, truth be told, had that been my thought, I probably would have reduced it to something without words. A yawn. Or worse, it would have gone unnoticed as a lost moment in a mind full of complaints.

As it was, I’d never before been on this particular turn of the earth or looked at the sky at that precise moment. What, exactly, “caught my eye?”

I do not know what will happen. Nothing is ever the same. Ever. It is impossible to have been this way before because no one has ever lived this moment until now. That’s the response to “why bother.” It always changes. And I care. Tomorrow can’t possibly be the same as today so it matters.

Every idea reaches beyond the confines of “just.” Ideas are expansive. Just is reductive.

People are expansive unless they choose otherwise.

Why just live in the reductive?

Good Moments/This Part of the Journey © 1997, 2000 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora and iHeart Radio

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SUN AND TREES

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Take Time [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

“Take time to see the quiet miracles that seek no attention.” ~ John O’Donohue

We donned our heavy vests, stepped into our Uggs and winter boots, pulled the Adirondack chairs into the spot of sun bathing the edge of the patio. The house served to block the chill breeze, more winter than spring. Like sinking into a warm soothing bath after a hard day’s labor, we sank into our chairs, faces to the sun, moaned. The rays of the sun reached all the way to our bones. We’d dreamed of this moment for months and the reality was so much better than our imagining.

Those same rays are calling forth the wild geranium at the base of Barney, the piano. The day lilies are reaching through the crusty soil and dead leaves. The bunny is again in residence though this time her nest is beneath the deck. Dogga’s nose relentlessly investigates her trail but he has yet to catch a sight of her. We keep a watchful eye for the appearance of her babies.

The squirrels empty the bird feeder in a matter of hours. They are incredible acrobats, ninjas. Were I a jewel-thief-in-the-movies I would study squirrels. The birds gather at the base of the feeder pecking the leftovers from the squirrel raid. “It should be the other way around,” I say. “Birds at the feeder, squirrels at the base.”

“Will you refill it anyway,” she asks, already knowing my answer. I smile. The order of things is of no concern to her. She delights in the critter antics no matter how they play out in the yard.

She squeezes my hand. Small miracles abound. I settle back into my sun-warmed chair grateful that we take time to see them.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SUN IN THE YARD

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Amor Fati [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

A week ago there was snow. It came and went like a sacred Tibetan sand painting: between the initial pristine white blanket and its rapid disappearance, it passed through several glorious configurations. My favorite was the field of pocks sculpted by drips falling from eaves and branches. Nature is both an excellent painter and a sculptor.

An old friend sent us a message on Kerri’s birthday. “Don’t let the old woman and old man in.” We are lucky, we have young spirits and are given to exploration and play. Nevertheless, I took the message to heart, though with a subtle modification. I altered the message to eliminate the resistance. Rather than erect a fortress against aging, I want to feed the spirit in my life-sand-painting. I want to appreciate all the phases and beauty along the way as nature sculpts me. Amor fati. Love your fate. Love your face. Love your spirit and the day in which it dances.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SNOW POCKS

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Generous Blossom [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

We took a walk to clear our heads. There, on an embankment adjacent to the trail, were daffodils in full bloom. The yellow was shocking. They were so vibrant that they stopped us in our tracks.

They were so unexpected that they tossed us out of our dilemma-of-the-day and infused us with their quiet hope. We didn’t stay for long but we did take their inspiration home with us.

Such a small thing. Such a generous and timely blossom.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DAFFODILS

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After All [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“Food is the most primitive form of comfort.” ~ Sheilah Graham Westbrook

In anyone’s book, our circumstances at present are extreme. And so, we cook.

My role in the kitchen is sous chef and clean-up. Kerri is the master chef though she is generous and does not require me to address her as “Yes, Chef!” Dogga is the third member of our team. He is an enthusiastic taste-tester and also serves the role of floor clean-up. We are a good team. The simple action of cooking together is large part of our recipe for cooking-up-comfort. We love it.

The actual food that we cook is, of course, a huge part of the comfort infusion. We range from chicken soup to Kerri’s pasta sauce. Lately, we’ve been making grilled cheese sandwiches and, I’ve noticed, recipes that require mashed potatoes. Truthfully, we could probably strip everything else off the plate but the mashed potatoes are the essential. They are the epicenter of comfort. We have in the past made mashed potatoes all-by-themselves and feasted on an intentional mainline of food-cheer.

My theory of comfort food is paradoxical (and obvious). Comfort food takes you back in time. Kerri’s mom made comfort-mashed-potatoes so they are a direct connection to Beaky. Comfort food also drops you into the present moment. The delicious fulfillment of warm expectation. There’s nothing like taste and smell – a happy dance of two senses – to pull everything into the right-here-and-now. And in this moment, wrapped in a yummy warm blanket of tasty comfort, all is well. At least for now. And, in the end, it makes us realize that this bite, this moment, is all that we have. Things are not so bad after all.

right now/right now © 2010 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora and iHeart Radio

read Kerri’s blogpost about MASHED POTATOES

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Take The Back Road [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Even in our race to Milwaukee to meet a deadline, we decided to take the back roads. We’ve learned that the time difference between the freeway and the less-stressful-backroads is often only 15 minutes. I’m finding that getting-there-faster is generally an illusion that always produces heightened stress. We have enough stress as it is so we look for ways to feed-the-calm. To reinforce presence. 15 minutes seems like a fair trade for less angst. Even in a race.

We’re regularly passed on the road by a car-in-a-hurry. We inevitably catch them at the next light. All the aggression, all of the get-out-of-my-way, achieves a car length of advantage. I try and keep that in mind in our age of more/faster, a by-product of information inundation. Aggressive drivers have become something of a metaphor. It takes time to process information. It takes time to suss out relevance. Very little is actually gained by going faster to go faster. Except more stress. It is an un-win-able race.

On our back road drive to Milwaukee we marveled at the clarity of the storm cloud’s line of demarcation. It was as if a giant X-Acto knife cut the clouds exposing a swatch of blue-blue that extended to the horizon. We literally drove under the line. In a moment we moved from shadow to sun. In a moment, the gloom and weight of the stormy day transformed to warmth and rejuvenation. In a moment.

I wondered if the angry driver swerving through traffic, speeding toward a destination, even noticed the line. I wondered if the warmth and rejuvenation we experienced was available amidst the dedicated hurry-hurry. I wonder at the ubiquitous story of needing-to-get-there-faster, getting there first. What is actually gained? What is actually lost?

It takes time to suss out relevance. It takes time to notice the warmth and welcome rejuvenation when it becomes available. It takes time to actually see – to see – another human being on the road to somewhere. It takes time – and taking time, as it turns out, is nothing more or less than a choice, something as simple as taking the back road.

Holding Steadfast/Blueprint for My Soul © 1997 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes or streaming on Pandora and iHeart Radio

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LINE

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buymeacoffee is a stop on the road to somewhere.